These Feet that Carry Me
by ArikaPhantomess
Summary: Sequel to Slave. One girl, searching to find a woman long gone, is trying to find the meaning of herself. Will she learn who she is and find the answers to her questions? And if she does, will she find it within her to defend what is hers?
1. Pilot

My mother was a slave.

I, however, am free.

In an age where it seems a woman can only be known by her status, that I am free is a great blessing to me; and also a curse. I must now be free to think for myself... free to wander where I choose... free to decide. I know you will look at what I have written to you and say to yourself, "You are mad! You make freedom sound a right burden! Men and women have died to give you the choices and privileges you so clearly detest and you should be ashamed of yourself!"

I am not. I am not ashamed of myself nor do I think I ever shall be.

I, having upon this day grown to my twenty first year of age, can say that I do not know myself. Having found the diary of my great grandmother, Candy, and read it, I have found the source- the pinnacle, if you will- upon which I will base my narrative. Only a name, only a whisper of a name: Theodora. Henceforth I know from where my own name comes, but not the whole of her name. Nay, only half the name from a slave girl who died at the point of a gun could have sufficed for a granddaughter.

But I find myself beside my point.

The point is that I am making a journey. A journey of which the like has never been seen in my family and perhaps shall never be seen again. I have found my present purpose, which shall be to me like a staff to a lame man. My purpose is to find both my purpose and the place where I shall rest myself in life to walk its long and winding path. My question is clear:

Having never known the meaning of slavery, can I truly know the price I would pay for my suffocating freedom?

-Dora Blackbar

xXx

A/N- Welcome back, one and all. This is a short pilot chapter to see if there would be interest in a sequel to my fic "Slave." I hope all of my old readers return to me and I'll be crossing my fingers for some new ones. As with most of my stories, I have no idea where this is going, but I'm loving the ride so far. Please review this and tell me what you think!


	2. Necessary Exposition

-Now, with 30 more More! (Haha, you can't measure that, can you?)

Disclaimer- Star Wars is not mine, just the characters I have used thus far and my plotline.

xXx

Dora stood alone on a planet that she didn't know, surrounded by a language she was not familiar with and with a destination that was unclear. Dora was a small young woman with nondescript mousy brown hair and eyes the color of bleached wood, but she stood out from the crowd. Everyone around her was hurrying from one place to another, and most were carrying heavy things like crates. This made sense, as she had landed in the loading dock. Dora was standing still and her only haversack sat on the ground by her feet. She gazed around with a blank expression looking for nothing in particular.

In reality, her mind was on fire. Doubts stampeded across her mind like a training ground. She shouldn't have come. Why did she come? To chase some dream? Pah! Fools chase dreams. If she had any sense at all, she would turn around and get right back on that ship.

Instead, Dora picked up her belongings and began to drift with the crowd. She watched the faces of the people as their eyes slid from the brute carrying a heavy crate in front of her, to the one behind her. She blended in perfectly. In retrospect, choosing to come to such a large port city first was a brilliant idea. Someone there was sure to speak Common. Judging more by the expressions of the people rather than the position of their planet's suns, Dora judged that now would be a good time to find shelter for the night. She continued to drift in a less-than-purposeful manner until a sign caught her eye. Staring at it a moment, she decided that any bar that advertised itself with a tap-dancing pineapple couldn't be all bad, and went in.

The sour air stung her eyes and bit the back of her throat. She pulled up short to gag and nearly caused a large man behind her to trip over her. His good reflexes and her sense of when not to move saved them both. He paid her no mind as she attempted to hack up a lung. Dora got herself under control and went quickly to the bar. The eyes on her were making her edgy. She arrived at the conclusion that no one in this bar had ever seen someone as clean as her. Not even the bartender, who was looking her up and down like he knew full well she wasn't of age to drink. Dora muttered an order for whatever food was easiest to find in the back and escaped to a corner of the bar with a bowl of soup.

As she ate, Dora watched the stares of the men become furtive glances and occasional gestures until they forgot she was there altogether. She quietly chewed her food, observing everyone and trying to calm her beating heart. Doubts plagued her mind. She didn't want to return- Dora knew that she would regret it 'til the end of her days, but she felt so damn unprepared! What had she been thinking coming out here expecting to find answers without even a good question?

She was so lost in her thoughts that she started violently at a tap on her shoulder.

"May I sit here?" asked a young brown-haired man, gesturing to the chair opposite her. Dora hadn't even noticed that chair before. She nodded absently and he sat, smiling. "It's unusual to see someone like you in here. Mostly rough folk in this part. Did you just get in?" he chattered, indicating the docks outside with a wave of his hand. Dora made another affirmative gesture, forgetting her soup for the moment and focusing intently on the man. He was pretty scrawny. His clothes hung loose on him and there were dark circles under his eyes. She noticed a tick in his cheek. He smiled genially enough, but his eyes roamed constantly and his hands bore less-than-friendly scars on the knuckles. She decided to treat him carefully.

"How rude of me!" he exclaimed suddenly after realizing that she wasn't going to say anything. "My name is Daniel." He held out his hand expectantly. Dora took it a bit slower than she would normally so as not to appear too outgoing all at once, but yet not to be impolite and risk insulting him.

"Dora," was all she offered. Her voice cracked in the dryness and she coughed as the smoke his her throat again. Daniel waited politely for her to recover herself before telling her it was delightful to meet her and had she been here before, maybe he could show her around...

About the time that Dora was going to make up an excuse to leave on account of meeting an imaginary cousin an unruly fight broke out near the front door. Three card players were duking it out old style and breaking everything in reach. Dora needed no more excuse than this and slipped out while she thought Daniel was preoccupied with watching the carnage.

Out on the street again, Dora slung her bag over a shoulder. It was time to find shelter and plan out what she was going to do for the rest of this stupid expedition. Daniel's words floated back to her; if this was the 'rough folk' part, which direction was the rest of the town?

"Dora!"

She turned around, annoyed. She had been hoping to shake him off, but apparently it was going to be like a dog covered in honey- trying only made things worse. She kept her blank look on and waited, but she didn't see him behind her. Surely the crowd hadn't carried him away, light though he was.

In a flash, coarse cloth covered her mouth and she felt herself slipping away. The smell was not at all familiar, but its effect was and Dora had enough time to feel frustrated with herself for being mugged before her mind was forced into the darkness.

xXx

A/N- I've finally found a way to write this story that pleases me. For each new chapter, I will look on my iPod and use that song name for my chapter heading. Then, something in that chapter will pertain to it, maybe something a character says or the overall plot of it. To those who are looking at me skeptically, I will definitely have to wedge Vader in here somehow, though... I'll find a way... Review, please and you will have a happy authoress on your hands. (Which is foremost on your minds, I'm sure.)


	3. The Journey Begins Seriously

A/N- Remember this story? Clearly I didn't. I became involved with my Naruto fic (you should go check it out, if you like) and dropped this one like a hot stone. The idea for it, though, is still surprisingly fresh in my mind, though I have less idea how I am actually going to write it than before. Either way, if you're reading this and you are unfamiliar with "Slave", you should really go read that first.

Also, if you're wondering, Dora is a completely unlikable character. Sorry. She gets better. I hope.

xXx

"Get up. Come on." The clank of keys against her cell door was deafening. Slowly, she stood and took only one step towards him. Her guard leaned in, grabbed her roughly by the upper arm, as if that were enough to hold her, and lugged her through the dark, dirty halls. Dora let herself hang from his grip annoyingly and dragged her feet, kicking up dirt clods. She had decided to be as horribly obnoxious as possible, partially because she felt spiteful and partially because she thought her captors might decide that she was too much trouble and either release her or kill her. Either was an acceptable out.

It wasn't too hard to figure out what had happened. Dora, like a shy, obliging little victim, had played along most willingly into the hands of some slavers. She had awoken in her tiny, dirty cell wearing something that could generously be called "well patched" and an exciting new tattoo- two overlapping circles on her upper arm, almost on her shoulder. She couldn't see the sun, so she had no idea how long she had been here. While a definite downturn from her expected journey, the solitude had afforded her plenty of time to think about why she was here. Not the slavery bit, the journey bit.

Back home, Dora suffered from a large case of apathy and lack of direction. Her mother, a freed slave, couldn't understand why her daughter was uninterested in life and wouldn't take all of the opportunities afforded her. Dora was intelligent, when she could be bothered, occasionally creative and generally a good, down-to-earth sort of girl. Dora, on the other hand, hadn't really seen the point. There was nothing she had any desire to do. She would work hard wherever she ended up, but it wasn't really because she would want to. She just would.

So she'd left. Having reached such a conclusion, Dora decided that she could work at a mediocre job elsewhere just as easily as at home, and furthermore leaving might convince her mother that she was at the very least _trying_ to find a path in life, whether she was or not. It had been depressingly easy to leave. Her entire life fit into a ten-pound haversack and a change of clothes. Her mother cried, of course, but Dora had felt completely unmoved. She had only hugged her and then walked away. Even choosing a destination had been easy- she stabbed randomly at a map. When it didn't matter where you went, decisions became unimportant.

In short, she was here because she had nowhere better to be, which was ironically appropriate in her mind. If you had no life of your own, why not serve someone else's? The tattoo she could have forgone, but she hoped that maybe someone would buy her soon and give her something proper to wear. Maybe food that didn't taste like dust.

Suddenly the guard dragged her to her feet and Dora recoiled from bright sunlight. Where was she? She was pushed forward until she felt other shoulders rub against hers. Was she in a lineup? Had she been mistaken and this was actually jail? No. When her eyes stopped watering, she could see that she was in a line of about 6 other girls around her age, all standing in front of a building that cast a large shadow. The earth was hot and barren save for a few scrubby bushes desperately clinging to life. Dora was suddenly aware that she hadn't been given shoes and fidgeted, trying to keep her feet from burning. She received a smart rap on the skull.

In the distance, there were other buildings and houses, but they looked sad and dark, and a terrible distance away. Dora guessed that this town was not much more than an outpost for the enormous facility behind her. She jumped as a beeping at her knees announced a droid rolling along in front of her and her fellow slaves. His robotic eye scanned each one, but Dora didn't know what he was scanning.

"Pitiful lot, aren't they?"

The speaker was an older man with a short, bristly grey beard and a jeweled cane. He stood abnormally straight, however, and sported a thick head of dark hair, so perhaps the cane was only for show. He was dressed in too many layers for such heat with a cape, full on bracers and gloves as well as knee-high boots, so he dabbed at his forehead with a monogrammed handkerchief every few moments. He eyed the line of young women distastefully, almost as if he couldn't believe where he was and what he was doing.

A thin man with a few last strands of hair clinging to his temples slouched forward to address the tall stranger. "Well sir, travelers is gettin' wise. Been avoiding this port, see. Also made a big sale just the other day. Took half my inventory." The tall man looked as if he didn't particularly want to talk to the thin man any more than he wanted to look at the girls, but he made a noise in his throat and stepped forward all the same. He walked down the line, peering intently into the faces of each girl he passed. He leaned into Dora's face until she could see the little wrinkles under his eyes and the stray white hairs in his black eyebrows.

When he reached the end of the line, the stranger 'tisk'ed disapprovingly and said to the thin man, "Really, is this the best you have? These things look like they'd fall over at a breath of air." The thin man looked like he was going to reply, but the stranger didn't seem to notice. "Whatever. I'm not going home empty handed. I'll take that one," he said, pointing nonchalantly at Dora. He didn't even seem to care who he had chosen. Maybe he, too, was stabbing blindly at a map.

"Are you really sure, sir? She's new, see, and has been givin' us trouble..."

"For God's sakes, don't argue with me! Just... bring her here and I'll pay you."

The droid pushed her forward from the knees, almost causing her to fall. The thin man quickly took her by the arm and dragged her to the customer. Dora sneaked a look and watched the other girls be led back. They shuffled their feet and walked with stooped shoulders. For a moment, she felt guilty that she had been picked, though it wasn't her fault in the least.

"Ouch!" Dora yelped. A flare of pain pierced her head, near the base of her skull. Tentatively, she reached around to feel the spot, but her hand was slapped away.

"Quiet. It's just your implant." The droid beeped cheerfully and withdrew his mechanical arm. "Alright, sweets, you belong to the man now. Be good." The thin man, who she now realized was probably the head slaver, simpered rather than smiled and waved goodbye to them both. A large thug she hadn't noticed before pushed her along after her new owner. Dora skipped along quickly- she was getting very tired of being carted and dragged around- but kept looking back at the giant stone building she was leaving. Was this going to be better than that, or worse?

xXx

A/N- Sorry for the low quality. Turns out it's hard to kick-start an old story. You may notice that events in later chapters may not match up with the first two chapters. Try not to think about it too much and it won't bother you. ^_^


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